Make Belief Studios ~

January 19, 2008

chapter 12

Filed under: 01 Into the Hive, Gilded Providence, Story, WIP — Tags: , , , — Saturday @ 12:19 pm

“Was a bit more trouble than we were hoping for, eh?” Tremarch beamed while attempting to catch his breath. I turned my head in his direction, a discontented smile floated across my face. Then my face grew red. A rage crawled up my shoulders and stressed against my closed eyes. A swelling rose up in my throat, but I swallowed it.
“It certainly was.” I grinned sheepishly. Tremarch grinned back with satisfied expression. Then my expression cracked.

I started sobbing. I tried to muffle the first one with my hands but it choked in my throat, then I couldn’t stop. A worried Tremarch advanced towards me with an outstretched glove. I quickly turned my head down towards the liquid ground.
“That was too scary!” I exhaled, “Don’t ever do that to me again!” I slapped my fists against the yellow pool but the splash was much too viscous to be satisfying.

“C’mon,” Tremarch solemnly directed, “let’s get you cleaned up then head to town.” He climbed up the sliver embroidered tree stump left by the hive and helped pull me to my feet.
“We need to come back,” I said as Tremarch took my arm and I leaned my head into his shoulder. “We need two buckets of honey. There’s only one here.” A subtle smile lay across Tremarch’s whiskers.
“You know, lass. I think you’ve changed since you’ve been here. When we first met, there’s no way you would ‘ave given two shakes about my needs.” After a pause he continued, “I’m sorry for dragging you all this way.” I smirked a little.
“What do you think you know about me, when we first met, old man?” We both grinned at each other as I pushed myself up from the honey, with my hand on his shoulder.

“But still, we need a second pail of honey, right?” I took a couple steps away from Tremarch and tried to jiggle loose some of the gobs of honey hanging from my arms.
“Grab that pail over there, will you Sally?” Tremarch requested, materializing his regular aura of optimism. I waded over and pulled the bucket I had filled free from the sticky ground. I turned to walk back but stopped and grimaced.

“Where’d you get that?” I asked. Tremarch looked innocently down at the bucket held by the handle in both his hands, identical to the one currently in my possession.
“Of course that!”
“It was ‘ere! I got it from right here!”

I twitched an eyebrow in his direction. Tremarch had obviously not moved a step in the thick gook and there definitely was no can there before. He casually scooped it full of honey as I swayed with my own bucket back to his side.
Well, I guess I didn’t have to worry about coming back here for more…

We both started our way back through the over sized cobwebs to the trailer. The pail of honey was heavy and after the struggle to get from the top of the tree stump to the level ground I made Tremarch carry both our buckets.
I’ve seen how strong he is, I’m not going to feel sorry for him.
So we continued our peaceful walk all the way back to the trailer. My legs were still a bit shaky so I was glad to sit back up on deck with the Royal Oak logs and Tremarch’s axe resting across my lap, linking the two buckets of honey on either side of me.

By the time Tremarch had pulled us back to the cabin, my clothes had become terribly uncomfortable from the drying honey. Sure, as you could imagine, being covered in honey wasn’t a pleasant experience from the beginning, but it wasn’t like I had just a couple sticky spots bothering me, I was thoroughly saturated. The consistent coverage wasn’t so irritating at first but it was starting to get difficult to move. I had to have Tremarch help peel my bottom off the deck so I could get down without falling on my face.

Tremarch had insisted that I take a bath as soon as possible.
You’re the last person I want to hear demanding that I take a bath!
When I refused to clean up in the cold river, Tremarch rushed inside to rinse out the dinner cauldron and heat it full of water in the middle of the kitchen table. He seemed to be quite in a panic by the time the water was warm so I didn’t object too strongly when he said he’d scrub all the honey off me. However, I did boot him out of the room when he tried to pull my shirt off.

With a bit of struggle I managed to get undressed. Luckily, Tremarch’s clothes were wide enough that I could just peel them off because the buttons had been glued down with dried honey. It was a tight fit, but I managed to ease myself down into the pot which we ate dinner from the night before. Ew! With my knees up guarding my chest, I gave Tremarch the signal that he could come in.

Tremarch scrubbed me for a good hour, despite me telling him that I wanted out after about twenty minutes. He made sure every ounce of honey was washed away. While I was in a towel he went through my hair and scraped with an razor blade the tips that had been stuck together with the goo. Sure I appreciated it, but I could have done it myself. Was that his way of showing his appreciation?
Is he that much like a monkey that he wants to help preen me?

I was all cleaned up and back into my regular attire. Tremarch had managed to scrape away some of the honey which coated my boots so that they weren’t completely useless. Actually, he did a surprisingly good job. Put those carpenter skills to good use by carving through the semi-dry honey, I guess. The shoes were no longer uncomfortable to walk in, but they were still quite a bit heavier. Then Tremarch retrieved the honey soaked clothes I had borrowed and tossed them onto the garbage pile behind his shed. There was a loud shattering as they collided with the other debris, it wasn’t the clothes which shattered though.
What the heck did that honey do to those clothes?

“Sally, come ‘ere for a second. I ‘ave something for you.” Tremarch beckoned me after he had gotten all our supplies prepped for our trip. I got up from a short sewing book I had found in the living room and approached him quizzically. Taking me by the hand, Tremarch slipped an urn shaped capsule into my open palm. I raised an eyebrow.
“It’s some of the Royal Honey we collected. Cleaned and ready for use!” Tremarch answered my silence.
“Oh! Thanks, I guess,” I held the palm sized capsule by its leather strap and inspected beneath it. “Does it taste better than regular honey?”
“Don’t eat it, Luv. You’ll get sick.”
“Oh,” I expressed lowly, squinting at it.
“Royal Honey is used to embalm things. When it hardens it is stronger than steel, resists extreme temperatures, illuminates subtitle lights a thousand times, and even has magical properties which are still being researched today.”
“Oh,” I expressed inquisitively, then added, “well that’s… neat.”
So that’s why Tremarch was so set on helping me bathe, it’d probably be like having bits of metal permanently embedded into my skin. Guess that also explains why everything Tremarch owns has that glow to it. He’s coated everything with this honey! But what the heck am I supposed to do with this?

I lowered the strap around my neck and rested the capsule beneath the top button of my blouse. I said my thank yous to Tremarch and smiled politely. He assured me I’d find some use for the small sample of honey. Then we ate supper (supper which didn’t require the cauldron for cooking) and called it a night. It was my last night sleeping in Tremarch’s house. The next morning he would take me to town and we’d say our good byes!
It feels good to finally be moving on!

… I think.


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